


ocean eyes

by constellation_composer



Series: songs from the north [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cute, Cuties, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Light Angst, M/M, Norway's POV, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, and den reciprocates just as strongly, and theyre perfect, did i mention nor is so so so so in love with his boy because he is, its strongly implied, just the boys being cuties, kindddddddddd of, norway is so in love, stupid gay men will do as stupid gay men do, they cuddle, theyre in love spread the news
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 06:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18360140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellation_composer/pseuds/constellation_composer
Summary: Norway wakes up with Denmark. They haven't woken up like this- wrapped up together, and with clothes on- in a very long time. The sands of time turn the morning gold.





	ocean eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i've been writing so much what the fuckkkkkkk
> 
> anyway yeah norway and denmark are so completely head over heels in love with each other and there is nothing stopping me from writing about it so i DID
> 
> please enjoy
> 
> yes the title is from the billie eilish song shhhhhh im an almost-not-quite american and an almost-not-quite punk and her voice is pretty i am the epitome of billie eilish fan culture im wearing a when we all fall asleep where do we go hoodie at this moment

Norway woke up with arms around him, and he relaxed into the grip, breathing in the familiar scent of liquorice and rain. He could hear the heartbeat in his ear, pounding steadily. There was no reason for him to get up right now; Denmark was still asleep, he could tell from his breathing, and he was comfortable, so he just shifted and pulled himself closer. It was dangerous, staying here in Denmark's arms. He was risking their friendship, risking half his happiness, but it didn't feel dangerous. It felt wonderful. It felt like home.

“I love you,” he murmured, almost without meaning to. There was no reply, of course. Denmark was still sleeping. He almost opened his eyes, but that would be admitting he was awake, and he was awake he ought to get up, and he wanted nothing less than he wanted to get up, so he nestled himself into Denmark's chest and kept his eyes shut.

They hadn't slept like this in a long time. Not with clothes on, at least; there had been an instance a month or two ago, and maybe four months ago, and maybe eight, but those had been hurried and blurred with drunkenness and Norway had always run before Denmark had woken up and forced him to confront the truth of what had happened.

The truth- such a fickle thing, wasn’t it? Norway liked to play that he didn’t know the truth. He liked to pretend that those incidents had been because they were frustrated and had needed some kind of outlet, so they’d used their best friend’s body to help keep from falling apart. He liked to tell himself that he didn’t have every moment he remembered memorized; he liked to pretend that he didn’t regret all the moments he’d lost to his alcohol altered mind. He liked avoiding the truth. Things were simpler that way. Because Norway did know the truth, he knew it very well, he knew it like he knew his own hands. Better yet, he knew it like he knew Denmark’s hands, like he knew Denmark’s voice, Denmark’s smile, Denmark’s freckles and Denmark’s touch and Denmark’s everything. The truth was emblazoned in his mind. It was unavoidable, really, but he was doing a spectacular job at attempting to if he did say so himself.

The truth was that Norway was in love with Denmark, head over heels, enthralled, enamoured, and completely overthrown with it, and Denmark didn’t love him back.

Sure, he had once upon a time, when they were younger. Denmark had promised to love him until they died, and like a fool, Norway had believed him. Denmark was the only person quite so talented at making Norway act like a fool, and he loved it. He loved the feeling of being in love with Denmark, he loved the feelings it flooded him with, he loved the twitch of his heart when Denmark was near him and the way his entire body shifted attention when he heard the Dane’s voice. But it would hurt so much less and he would love it so much more if Denmark could just love him back, just a little bit. It didn’t need to be the same intensity of adoration that Norway harboured in his heart; just something. A little something to ease a little of his pain. Something to keep him warm at night, like he was right now.

He snuggled even closer to Denmark, sighing softly, and the arm around his waist tugged him close, a quiet murmur of, “warm,” accompanying it. Norway smiled humourlessly. Denmark was waking up. He’d have to go soon. “Don’t go,” Denmark mumbled as the smaller man shifted. “Stay with me, Norge.”

“I need to go now, Den,” Norway whispered, trying to maintain his apathy and not slip in a mournful tone. Now wouldn’t that one be hard to explain?

One eye cracked open, giving him an irritated look. “No.” Denmark pulled him closer, pressing their chest together so closely that Norway feared they might become one person. “Need you,” Denmark mumbled, burying his face in Norway’s hair. “Love you.”

There was a long pause as Norway felt himself stop breathing. Denmark didn’t seem to notice, half asleep as he was, and Norway swallowed hard, listening as the taller man’s breathing began to even out again. “No, you don’t. Wish you did, asshole,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else and not expecting Denmark to hear.

“Huh?” Denmark pulled back, blinking at him in such blatant confusion that Norway almost smiled. Almost. (What? It was cute.) But his attention was diverted when Denmark spoke again, the heaviness of sleep still slurring his words together. “Course I do. I’ve always loved you, Norge.”

Norway let his fingers drift up carefully, trailing them across Denmark’s cheek. “No,” he replied, and he couldn’t keep the tint of sadness from his tone. Denmark frowned, his eyes sliding open, gaze searching Norway’s face. His eyes were bright; alert. He was awake now. Norway needed to leave before the truth reared her head. “I need to go now,” he said and went to move. Denmark’s grip held him fast, and Norway tried not to melt into the warmth, but he couldn’t help. It felt like home. “Den, I need to go now,” he repeated, his voice slightly strangled with emotion. Denmark’s frown deepened.

“You don’t want to, though,” he replied, his fingers sliding gently under the hem of Norway’s shirt. Norway shifted into the touch with a sigh, the warm feeling Denmark’s skin on his overwhelming him with contentment just as thoroughly as it always did. His eyes slid closed, partially because he was falling back asleep and partially because he didn’t want to be pierced through with Denmark’s gaze anymore. “I already said I love you, Norge,” Denmark murmured, and Norway stopped breathing again. Denmark pressed a kiss into his hair. “What else do you need from me, baby?”

The answer was instantaneous. “Don’t leave me,” Norway whispered. “I love you.”

Denmark’s lips found his; careful, slow, caring. “I love you too.”

Maybe things won’t ever be the way they were once upon a time. Maybe Norway will wake up cold again tomorrow, and he will crumble in on himself, tear himself to pieces, and cry like the sun will never rise again. (And isn’t Denmark’s smile the same thing, the way it warms his heart and soul?) Maybe he will have to hate himself, cursing himself down to his very bones, for being a fool and believing pretty words; maybe he will have to tell himself he hates Denmark, even though that would be a lie because Norway has never been able to hate Denmark, and he doesn’t suppose he would ever be able to.

Maybe. But Norway is pretty sure he’ll wake up with a warm body next to him tomorrow, and he wasn't thinking very hard about it at the moment, anyway. Norway was in love with Denmark, absolutely, all-consuming, to the ends of the earth, and Denmark loved him too.

**Author's Note:**

> i love my boys
> 
> i'm working on something with parent!dennor and little!iceland and im so excited to publish it soon i love them


End file.
